


Fixed Trajectory

by sabinelagrande



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Community: kink_bingo, Consent Play, Gunplay, M/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-21
Updated: 2013-10-21
Packaged: 2017-12-30 01:14:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1012270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabinelagrande/pseuds/sabinelagrande
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He's got Clint at point-blank range.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fixed Trajectory

**Author's Note:**

> For the guns/blades square on my second 2013 Kink Bingo card.

As soon as the door shut behind him, Phil pulled the gun from his pocket, putting it in Clint's back. "That a gun, or are you just happy to see me?" Clint joked, though he knew the answer already.

"It's a gun," Phil said flatly.

"Whoa, easy-" Clint started.

"Shut up," Phil snapped. "Turn around. Slowly." Clint very carefully obeyed, taking a step back. Phil made sure that he could see him take the safety off. "Hands up."

It seemed like a lifetime before Clint raised his hands. That was the signal; if Clint didn't, if he said "red" or "yellow," then the game was off. "I don't want any trouble," Clint said.

Phil was intensely relieved that he'd actually put his hands up, that he hadn't wasted his preparation and nerve on something that didn't end up working out. "There won't be any trouble if you just do what I say," Phil said. He grabbed Clint by the arm, turning him around and shoving him forward. "Walk."

They got to the bedroom, and Phil shoved him in. "On the bed."

Clint sat down at the edge of the bed. "It doesn't have to be like this," he said, though he didn't look like he meant it. "Just let me go, and I won't say anything."

"It'll be like I say," Phil said. He raised the gun, putting the circle of the barrel directly in the center of Clint's forehead. Clint swallowed. "Unbutton your shirt and unzip your pants."

Phil took the gun away, keeping it trained on him as Clint slowly undressed. He looked Phil in the eye, challenging him even as he did it. He was already hard, and it was such a relief, evidence that this was okay, that he wanted it, that he was terrified and turned on, not just terrified.

Phil dragged the gun barrel down the center of his chest, leaving a faint red line in its wake. He reached the waistband of Clint's boxer briefs, tugging at the elastic with the tip of the barrel. "These too. Show me."

"You don't need to do this," Clint said. "Please, I can give you whatever you want-"

"What I want is for you to get your cock out," Phil said. "You'd better do it before I decide that I don't want to be nice."

Clint slowly pushed down his underwear, pulling his cock free of the material. It was satisfyingly big, already hard, wetness glistening at the tip. "Okay," he said. "I did it, I showed you my dick, everybody had fun, can I go now?"

"Not likely," Phil said. "Stroke it."

"What?" Clint asked, eyes wide, pretending to be shocked even though he knew it was coming. He was the one who'd asked for it, after all.

"You heard me," Phil said. "I want to see you get yourself off. You're going to do it, or you're not going to like what happens."

Clint licked his lips. "And then you'll let me go?"

"And then we'll talk about it," Phil told him. "Now do it."

Clint wrapped his hand around his cock; despite himself he made a satisfied noise when he started to work his hand. He kept his eyes on the gun, not letting it out of his sight. He was so focused on it that it seemed like nothing else existed in his world, that everything had melted away except his hand and Phil's gun.

When Clint shut his eyes, Phil stroked the side of his face with the gun, almost affectionate. Clint all but nuzzled it, rubbing his cheek against the barrel. "Look at you," Phil said. "Look at how much you want it."

Clint jerked away, remembering himself. "I don't want this," he said.

"You keep saying that," Phil said. He moved the gun slowly, pointing it directly at Clint's dick. "Faster."

Clint swallowed hard, but he did as he was told, stroking himself quickly. He was gone on it, his breath coming fast, his face flushed; he bit his lips to keep the noise in, to keep from admitting how far down he was, how much he loved this.

But just then, he slowed down. "Will you let me go if I let you fuck me?" he panted.

Phil swallowed hard. He'd just been caught off-guard, and he didn't know what to do. "No," he said, his voice sounding more uncertain than he intended.

"Come on," Clint said, moving his hand slower, making it look good. "I know you want it. I'll give it to you if you'll let me go. It'll be so easy. I won't fight you for it. Just do it."

Phil desperately wanted to. Clint sounded so hot, looked so amazing, and Phil wanted him so badly. It would be incredibly easy to just push his legs apart and take him. He clearly wanted it, body and words both begging for it. Clint couldn't possibly have missed how hard Phil was in his pants, how much this was affecting him. He was pressing hard on a weak spot, and Phil knew it was on purpose.

Phil took a deep breath, stopping himself before he could do something stupid and unforgivable. A scene was a scene. You negotiated a scene, and you didn't change course in the middle. Neither of them were thinking clearly. Unless they agreed to something in advance, it wasn't really consensual. He'd regret it later. He'd lose Clint's trust. He just had to keep repeating that to himself until it sounded like a good idea, a better one than throwing out the rules and fucking him as hard as he could.

Once he had it back together, he jabbed the gun hard into Clint's thigh, enough that he made a noise of pain. "Shut up," he snapped. "I'm the one with the gun. Try giving me another order and see how it ends for you." He put the gun to his lips. "Open up." Clint closed his lips tight, shaking his head, and Phil slapped him sharply. "I said open." Clint let him in this time, taking the gun barrel into his mouth. "Suck."

Clint shut his eyes tight, his cheeks hollowing as he obeyed. Maybe this had been an error in judgement. Clint had asked for it, and Phil was desperate for a way to shut him up. He hadn't thought about how hot it was going to be to watch him do it, to think about how it would be like to have Clint's lips wrapped around him like that. If he hadn't been trying to play the tough assailant, he would have moaned just looking at it.

Clint obviously liked it, his hand moving faster on his cock as he sucked. He was noisy, making sounds of satisfaction, working his head on it to get more of the barrel into his mouth. He loved this; whether it was the danger that got him off or just an oral fixation, Phil really didn't care.

"That's right," Phil said, moving the gun in and out of his mouth. "Just do what I want. Nobody has to get hurt." Clint nodded his head. "Faster. I want to see you come. I want you to know that this is what got you off, that all you wanted was somebody to force you to do it. I didn't even really need this, did I? You just wanted a little persuasion."

Clint opened his eyes when he came, looking stunned, shocked, like he was totally unprepared for it. He moaned loudly around the gun, coming hard onto his stomach, and Phil was convinced for a moment that he was going to come too.

When he was almost done, Phil pulled the gun slowly out of his mouth, holding it to his temple, and Clint sucked in a breath. Phil pulled the trigger.

It didn't move.

Phil looked at the gun, shrugging. "Guess I'm out of luck today," he said, tossing the gun aside.

Clint's shoulders slumped, like his strings were suddenly cut. "I knew it was a bluegun," he said, though he sounded more breathless than triumphant.

"I did what I could," Phil said. "Are you insulting my painting skills?"

"I think this would have gone down very differently if I hadn't known," Clint said. He shook his head, panting hard. "I'm finished."

"Okay," Phil said, running his hand through Clint's hair. "Why don't we lay down?"

"Okay," Clint said. He tucked himself back into his pants and zipped up before laying down, waiting for Phil. "Sorry for screwing up."

Phil lay down next to him, taking him into his arms. "You didn't screw up."

"I got carried away," he insisted. "I asked for too much."

"Hey," Phil said, pulling him tighter. "Everybody gets overenthusiastic now and again. I'm not mad at you."

"You have every right to be," Clint said.

"Well, I'm not," Phil said. "I'm waiving my rights."

Clint laughed. "You say that now," he said.

"I'll say it again," Phil said. "Nothing is wrong. Everything is alright."

"Okay," Clint said, putting his head on Phil's shoulder, though he still sounded skeptical.

"You know," Phil said, after a long, comfortable silence. "The scene is over, so if you felt like letting me fuck you _now_ -"

Clint snorted. "Give me a minute."

"Oh, take all the time you need," Phil said magnanimously.

"You're so generous," Clint said.

"I am, aren't I?" Phil said, and Clint rolled his eyes.


End file.
